And in Some Time, It Might
by SweetG
Summary: -Sam/Kurt- She never answers. And he spends the rest of the night explaining to the anxious little boy inside of him that nothing is wrong, that he's not hiding anything, that he's got to sleep, and that no, he can't have some Häagen Dazs.


When Mercedes texts him for the first time, a week alter he's joined Glee Club, the text only says _i thought you had what it takes, boy._

It could be about anything, it could even be for someone other than him (Sam knows pretty well how easy it is to make the mistake of sending the wrong thing to the wrong person in the wrong moment), but he doesn't try to play with delusions.

He's been berating himself about this since Kurt sang his song alone. It's been on the forefront of all the things he uses as ammo against himself when he's feeling self-loathing.

Just thinking about Kurt giving that _when you're special, you know you're gotta be on your own'_ speech makes him feel all sort of things that contradict each other.

The temptation to let this slip and just go on and pretend that Mercedes never texted him is suffocating. But in the end he just can't stiffle the remainings of his good guy tendencies and texts her back –taking care to write the words properly, trying to win at least this one battle against his dyslexia- with an _i thought i had it, too._

After that, he plays some WOW, reads some Deathstroke, and makes himself a smoothie.

She never answers.

(And he spends the rest of the night explaining to the anxious little boy inside of him that nothing is wrong, that he's not _hiding_ anything, that he's got to sleep, and that _no_, he can't have some Häagen Dazs.)

The second time she texts him is before a Rocky Horror rehearsal.

The golden short shorts have been staring at him mockingly for some time, while conveniiently perched on one of the benches. For such a ridiculous garment, it looks to smug on itself. If it could talk (which it _can't_, really, Sam, that's an inanimate object, don't be a freak), it would totally be calling him an assortment of mean things to insult everything about him from his looks, to his character, to his masculinity, and moreso it would probably call him out on being _dumb_.

He's so immersed in this war of sorts with the piece of clothing, that when his phone starts blaring the beats of Cupid's Chokehold his heart nearly runs away from him in a gore-y George Romero style.

He reads once or twice the words until they make sense to him.

_get ur skinny white ass here. kurts__ about to go all miranda priestly on ur ass if u dont hurry up. weve got shopping to do_

Five minutes later, he's on stage wearing the tightest pairs of not-underwear he's worn in his entire life.

Mercedes, however, seems to approve of the attire, or at least, she seems to approve of the fact that he wisely decided to take her seriously, because Kurt's looking at him with a mixture of hatred and resentment (and also sympathy, but mostly the first two) that screams _deranged_.

Kurt may also glance at him in a less than platonic way once or twice thorough the rehearsal, but Sam is really not uncomfortable, he _does_ realize he is the scantily clad owner of a well-cared-for body, and hormones are a strong thing to behold, and really, Kurt is only _human._ And a male, teenaged one, at that.

Also, it's flattering, he'll have to admit. Kurt is renowned for his fine taste.

So when he catches Kurt looking, he smiles widely at him.

Quinn also looks at him with a promising upturn of her lips for most of their running lines and songs and choreographies, but he isn't nearly as flattered.

(Mercedes seems to notice, but just lifts a perfectly sculptet eyebrow in an _are you kidding me, boy?_ sort of gesture that makes Sam feel self-conscious about every single thought he's ever had.)

He gets the third one the same day, when he's just made his way home and is seriously thinking about having a Star Wars marathon.

_You and I need to talk, california guy._

And without giving him time to start writing a response, she calls him.

"Yes?" There are nerves scattered all over that one word, because Mercedes can actually reduce him to a stuttering mess.

There's a sigh on the other end of the line, and then he can hear her strong, strong voice saying four simple words:

"What the fuck, boy?"

"I don't know what-"

"Oh, shut it. I'm above excuses, blondie. Really, what is your deal, sexuality wise? And what do you want from Kurt? Also, why do you dye your hair like that?"

The last sentence makes him laugh, even though he's sure Mercedes asked him that one question as seriously as the other ones.

She waits patiently for his laughter to stop, and then she waits some more, and when it's painfully clear that Sam doesn't _know_ what to answer, she promps him with a _don't you dare keep me waitin'_.

Sam's never been good at these things, never been good at lies, or at deception, so he kind of breaks all his vows –the ones about changing, and being someone else, and seeking popularity- and tells her about his old school. About liking boys and liking girls, and just not really telling the difference, and about how _that_ got him into a lot of trouble.

He told her about Kurt's voice and the sixty songs he still has on his iPod, fake-labelled under Faith Hills' name.

Tells her about hating himself a little for what he did to him (even though Kurt was the one to break the duets' deal off). Tells her about Quinn, about liking her so much, but not as much as he...

And that stops him. That thought, that lingering _as much as I like him_ is much too strong to be voiced for the first time to someone who's not even standing in front of him.

" ... And that's it." He concludes, lamely. "Oh, and the hair's lemon juice."

And Mercedes doesn't talk for about a minute, which makes him afraid that she's off somewhere laughing about him, or telling all this to Quinn, or worse, to _Kurt_. But then she talks.

"You and me? We're going to the mall, now. Tell me your address, Ken."

And he does.

And they _do_ go shopping. And he spends a great time with her, and they talk so much that Sam can't really remember most the words he's used during the evening.

And like that, he finds himself befriending Mercedes Jones.

A week after that, he receives another text message (he's come to discover that she doesn't text much, as it's bad for the skin. She prefers to gossip in person, or to call, or to use social networking), this one tells him that _you need to break it off w/Quinn. It's not fair to her, and it's not fair to you._

He thinks about that for some time; the prospect of dumping Quinn makes him a little sad, because he _really_ does like her. But it also worries him, for entirely selfish reasons.

He gets another text.

_I think you have what it takes, boy_.

Those words lift a heavy load from his shoulders and actually make him form a little smile.

(The next day, he does it. And Quinn just smiles sadly at him and says _I sort of knew this was coming._ And he holds her hand one last time, before walking away.)

A month and a half later, he's nursing a black eye –courtesy of Dave Karofsky- with a concerned looking Kurt by his side, who keeps holding his hand and asking him if he's really okay and if he's sure that he wants to keep doing _this_ (_this_ being _them_), and biting his lip in a way that distracts Sam so much that it is wonder that he can hear his cellphone at all, he gets another text from Mercedes.

_don't let him go, even if he keeps guilttripping __and stuff. he's worth it and you're worth it._

(He answers _i won't. and i know._ And then he squeezes Kurt's hand and kisses him languidly in the middle of a guilty tirade.)


End file.
